


I Have Never Loved a Darker Blue than the Darkness I Have Known in You

by goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, BDSM, Begging, Caught, Cheating, Choking, Come Eating, Come Marking, Consensual Non-Consent, Creampie, Crying, Dacryphilia, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Doctor Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Face Slapping, Gentle Sex, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Masochism, Oral Sex, Police Officer Dean Winchester, Power Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Psychopath Castiel (Supernatural), Rape Fantasy, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sexual Roleplay, Situational Humiliation, Teasing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople/pseuds/goodpersonwithafetishforevilpeople
Summary: "And I have never loved a darker blueThan the darkness I have known in youOwn from youYou, whose heart would sing of anarchyYou would laugh at meanings, guarantees, so beautifullyWhen our truth is burned from historyBy those who figured justice in fond memoryWitness meLike fire weeping from a cedar treeKnow that my love would burn with meWe'll live eternally"- Hozier, "Better Love"





	I Have Never Loved a Darker Blue than the Darkness I Have Known in You

Even for a psychopath, there were times when Cas could be really fucking selfish and insensitive.

“Oh! Oh, yes!” exclaimed an ecstatic female voice from the bedroom of Dean’s apartment as he entered home from his shift at the station.

He could hear the bed-springs creaking wildly even from where he was in the kitchen, and he really hoped that Cas was just watching really loud porn and beating off wildly.

His hopes were dashed, however, when he heard the woman call out, “Oh, Clarence!”

That fucking did it. Dean stormed into his room and angrily flung the door open to the sight of his boyfriend holding his neighbour, Meg, tightly by the throat as he fucked her hard on Dean’s bed. When the slam of the door against the wall didn’t seem to alert them to his presence, Dean shouted, “What the fuck! Cas, I let you hang out for the whole day at my place and you decide to fuck my annoying neighbour from Hell behind my back while I’m at work?!”

Without slowing or even turning to look at him, Cas answered, “Sorry, I was bored, and – fuck! – and she came by to borrow some salt, and, well, you know… Shit! Yeah, that’s –”

“No! No, I don’t fucking know! Get the fuck off her, you son of a bitch!”

“Okay… Okay… I’m – Oh holy fucking hell! FUCK! – I’m almost… almost done…”

Dean just stared in horror as his boyfriend quickened his already brutal pace to the point where Dean knew from experience it had to be painful for Meg until both occupants of his bed arched their backs and Cas stilled deep inside Meg as she writhed and screamed through their orgasms. Her voice sounded abraded, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was from all of her vocalizations during the sex he’d just been scarred by witnessing, or from the bruising grip that Cas still hadn’t relented on her throat. Probably both. Cas finally collapsed, panting, and let go of her throat as he slid out and rolled off of her. Meg looked happily fucked out as she stared up at the ceiling and traced her fingers along the fresh bruises on her throat, smiling lazily. Cas scrambled out of the bed and picked his pants up off the floor, not bothering with his boxers or even doing his pants up entirely, but just enough so that he was decent.

Cas ran his fingers through his sex-roughened hair, only disheveling it further, as he regarded Dean’s horror-struck expression. He tilted his head in confusion. Surely, Dean was not disgusted or horrified by the sight of two people having sex. So, why did he look like he had just seen something from a nightmare? It wasn’t until Cas noticed how bright Dean’s eyes were, almost literally shining, that he realized that Dean was also trying to hold back tears. That cleared things up slightly. Very slightly. Cas knew now that Dean had been personally affected deeply enough to want to cry, but he still didn’t know why. It could be anything – disgust, fear, anger, sadness… Cas sighed. Whatever it was, Dean’s expression indicated that it definitely wasn’t joy. Had he sounded angry when he’d been talking? Cas thought so, but to be honest, he really hadn’t been paying Dean much attention. He liked Dean. He really did. Dean was funny, and cute, and so obedient in bed, and he made the best burgers that Cas had ever had. He liked dating Dean, and he knew by now that being impatient with people when they expressed emotions that Cas didn’t understand was a good way to get them to dislike, and subsequently break up with, him. He tried his hardest not to look or sound put out as he tossed Meg her clothes and said to her, “Here. That was fun. I’m sorry to kick you out, Meg, but I’ve gotta sort some stuff out with Dean.”

Meg sighed and sat up, pulling on her clothes as she climbed out of the rumpled bed. She brushed her fingers across Cas’s toned, sweaty abdomen as she passed him on her way to the door where Dean stood, and winked at him as she left with a flirty, “Goodbye, Clarence.”

Once Cas heard the front door of Dean’s apartment shut, he made his way over to his boyfriend and looked up at the slightly taller man as he looped his arms around Dean’s waist. A single tear rolled down Dean’s cheek and Cas kissed it away as he whispered in his deep, gravel-rough voice, “Talk to me, baby boy.”

Dean shoved Cas away from him roughly and said in a broken voice, “Don’t call me that.”

Cas tried not to sigh in frustration. It was all so confusing. Dean always liked being called Cas’s baby boy. But maybe he thought that Cas was trying to use it like they usually did, and Dean just wasn’t in the mood for sex right now. That would make sense, especially since Dean was clearly upset. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“What’s-?!” Dean spluttered. “You fuckin’ serious? “What’s wrong?”!”

“Dean,” Cas warned.

“No! No, don’t you fucking dare take that tone! After what you just did? Seriously, Cas?!”

Cas did sigh finally. “And what, if you would be so kind as to enlighten me, did I just do that was so upsetting?” Honestly, what was the problem? Dean knew that Cas enjoyed having sex with women as well as men. So did Dean. Sure, Dean might not like Meg particularly, but that was no reason to act like she was some kind of abomination.

“You can’t be serious! You expect me to be okay with the fact that I just watched you cheat on me? And after what I let you do to me last night, especially? I trusted you, Cas.”

Understanding finally dawned on Cas. He hadn’t been in a monogamous relationship before; he tended to go for people who were fairly promiscuous, like Meg, and his last girlfriend, April, or his last boyfriend, Balty. And, he’d thought, his current boyfriend, Dean. “Dean, I’m sorry you feel hurt. But in my defense, I was not of the understanding that we were exclusive.”

Dean stared at Cas like he was insane and said incredulously, “Well, you didn’t think it might be just a little rude to have sex with someone else in my bed? And fucking Meg, at that! And what the hell made you think we weren’t exclusive?”

Cas’s patience was beginning to wane, but he tried not to indicate that. “Look, Dean, I said I’m sorry. And I am. But, honestly, there was no reason for me to believe that we were exclusive. It isn’t something I just assume. Everyone else I’ve been with has been cool with it, and, I don’t know, I just thought you would be as well. Hell, in my experience when someone I’m dating walks in on me with someone else, they just join in.”

“Seriously? Is that what you were expecting would happen? Even knowing what I think of Meg?”

Cas shrugged. “You don’t have to like someone to fuck them.”

“No, YOU don’t. It’s different for me, Cas. And… And I thought this – what we have – I thought it was different for you, too. From what you’re used to. I thought…” Dean choked on his own voice and tried to compose himself as he said, “I thought I was enough for you.”

“Oh, Dean.” Cas sounded genuinely sympathetic, because he was. He recognized it now when Dean was feeling low or doubtful of himself. He walked back over to him and Dean let Cas put his hands on his waist. He looked Dean in the eye in the way that Dean had often said made him feel like Cas was staring into his soul as he said, “You are. You’re more than enough for me. You’re my perfect boy. What you saw me doing, that was nothing more than passing the time, I swear. And now that I know how you feel about it, I won’t ever do it again, as long as we’re together. Which I hope means that you’re the only person I’ll be putting my dick in for a very long time.” Cas grinned shyly as he said the last words. It really was something he hoped for.

Dean sighed and let his forehead drop to Cas’s bare shoulder, which was slightly sticky with dried sweat. Cas was a good guy. He hadn’t meant to hurt Dean; he just hadn’t been thinking about him when he’d been taking what he wanted from Meg. Yet, Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Cas was only nice to him because Dean gave him what he wanted so well. Part of Dean didn’t care; Cas was hot as fuck, had a great job at the local hospital, and was very sweet in the aftermath of their scenes. Because Cas spent so much time at the hospital and reading journals to keep up to speed in his field, he didn’t spend a lot of his time watching TV or reading for pleasure, and Dean found it cute when Cas couldn’t make sense of one of Dean’s pop culture references. Cas was everything, and Dean felt lucky that someone like Cas was willing to settle for someone like him. But Dean also knew how strong his own feelings were for Cas, and part of him really hoped that Cas saw Dean as more than just his “perfect boy.” He liked the approval, but he wanted to know that Cas would still want to be with him if he didn’t do as ordered. He’d been afraid to broach the subject, though, after Cas had first explained to Dean why he’d been interested in becoming a doctor. He was intending to become a psychiatrist at the time, but had ended up becoming a surgeon. He had wanted to be a psychiatrist, apparently, because he was grateful to his childhood psychiatrist for helping Cas and his family accept what Cas was. When Dean had asked, Cas explained that he was a psychopath, which didn’t mean that he was dangerous, but just that he was unable to feel empathy. Dean had been intrigued, but also disappointed, by this revelation. If he couldn’t feel empathy, did that mean that Cas couldn’t really care about other people? Why become a doctor, then? The money, maybe. Or the challenge. These were things that Dean had never asked.

“Hey,” Cas said gently, interrupting Dean’s thoughts. “I want to be good for you too, you know. How can I atone for what I did?”

Dean smirked even though Cas couldn’t see his face, and joked, “Let me punish you.” He was kidding, of course; Cas didn’t sub. He’d tried it before, when he was pretty young and still figuring out what he liked, and apparently, he’d found that his experiences of it ranged from finding it boring to terrifying to “just unpleasant in all the worst ways.” When he’d told this to Dean, Dean had suggested that he might find it different if he did it with someone he trusted implicitly, but Cas told him that it wasn’t going to happen, he knew by now he just didn’t like it. He felt Cas tense, and he rolled his eyes that there was actually a chance that Cas thought he was serious.

Then he felt guilty and more than a bit surprised when Cas said hesitantly, “Okay. What… What do you want to do to me?”

Dean scoffed and pulled his head up to look Cas in the eye. Cas’s eyes were wide, and he looked nervous as hell. “Dude, I was kidding.”

“Oh.” Cas visibly relaxed. “Um… Yeah, I was thinking I could, like, vacuum your place or something.”

Dean laughed. “And that wouldn’t be a punishment?”

Cas laughed, too. “Uh, well, I guess.” Then, he said, more seriously, “I really am sorry, Dean. And I want to make it up to you. How can I do that, baby boy?”

Dean smiled at the endearment which sent a jolt of pleasure through him. Cas probably wouldn’t want to have sex right now after his epic fuck-fest with Meg (ugh), but Dean needed Cas to remind him how much he wanted him. “You could, you know, remind me I’m yours.” He looked at Cas nervously, hopefully.

Cas smiled. “Yeah, I could. And how should I do that, hm?”

Dean blushed. “Come on, man, don’t make me ask. You’re supposed to be “atoning,” remember? So, just do your thing and try not to be a dick about it.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean’s attitude. “If you’re saying you want to scene, then it’s the same rules as always. I’ll be a bit nicer, since, you’re right, I am supposed to be atoning, but if you misbehave or talk back, I will punish you.”

Dean felt himself harden under his uniform, and grinned mischievously for a brief second before schooling his features into a more neutral expression and trying not to betray his excitement when he said, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Ask to remove your clothes.”

Ugh, he thought Cas wasn’t going to make him ask for shit. Dean tried to sound earnest as he grudgingly asked, “May I undress, Sir?”

“You may, baby boy.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Dean said, as he undid his holster and belt and let them drop to the carpet. His clothes followed soon after, and Dean stood completely naked and erect in front of Cas.

Cas grinned as he regarded Dean. He raked his eyes over Dean’s body: the black symbol he had tattooed high on his chest, the firm muscles of his stomach, his cute bowed legs, and finally back up to his hard cock. Cas saw it give an interested twitch as he stared at it. It wasn’t as big as Cas’s, but it was still above average. Not that Cas was massively huge or anything, just slightly wider than Dean and about an inch and a half longer. Both he and Dean got off on the fact that he was a bit bigger, though, which Cas liked. Rarely had his past boyfriends or other male subs liked being told their cock was “cute,” but Dean seemed to like it quite a bit. “Good boy.” Cas saw Dean’s cock twitch again at the praise. He stepped closer to him and settled his hands once more on Dean’s waist as he asked him in a seductively low voice, “How should I… redeem myself to you?”

Dean recognized Cas’s question for what it was, of course – a tease. But he had to decide how he wanted to play this. Being Cas’s good boy didn’t mean just being automatically subservient, though usually Cas preferred obedience to feigned resistance. Though, not always… After all, there had been that one night… Dean let his thoughts drift to the memory as he basked in the feeling of Cas’s warm, still slightly sweat-sticky hands firmly grasping his hips in a way that exuded authority and proprietorship, and pretended to deliberate on his answer while he let himself become distracted by the memory of one of the most unanticipated scenes they’d ever done:

Cas was on call and had been surprisingly undisturbed when his shift got into the wee hours of the morning. Despite not knowing how long the lull would last, Cas had texted Dean to come to the hospital, where Cas led him from the entrance to the on-call room. As soon as he’d shut and locked the door, Cas had slammed Dean against it and kissed him hungrily.

Dean wasn’t so much kissing back as trying to push Cas’s mouth away with his own. He couldn’t really use his hands to push Cas off him, since they were pinned firmly to his sides. When Cas finally broke the kiss to pant in a breath, Dean whispered in a bit of a panic, “Cas, we – we can’t do this! Not here!”

Cas slapped him hard across the face.

Dean had been so surprised and scared by the action, thinking that he had genuinely pissed Cas off, until Cas whispered with a hint of concern just barely audible in the question, “Colour?”

Dean’s confusion almost eclipsed his relief. Colour? They weren’t in a scene, were they? Were they? Dean had definitely not agreed to scene just then. There was no way that what Dean had said could possibly have been interpreted as consent.

Dean had been yanked out of his confused ponderings by a tight grip in his hair, exposing his throat. Cas growled threateningly, “Answer me, boy.”

Dean whimpered in both pain and resignation as he felt himself harden rapidly and let out a soft, “Green, Sir.” He didn’t really know what he was agreeing to. All he knew at this point was that he wanted, needed more of that voice, more of this touch, more of everything that Cas embodied, right now.

Cas grinned predaciously. “You don’t want this, do you, boy? Not here. You don’t want me to take you here.” His voice held none of the previous concern.

Oh. Dean got it now. Why Cas had hit first and asked second. That was the kind of scene he wanted. Dean felt his heart begin to thunder harder in his chest at the idea of Cas taking him by force. Well, force that he was agreeing to be taken by, but that was merely a technicality now that it had been established. If Dean let himself get really into the head-space, it would seem almost entirely real, save for the fact that he of course did want and love Cas. But the part of him that had objected to having sex at Cas’s work in the first place – the rational part of him, Dean supposed; his reservations – could make this whole scene seem just real enough. Though those reservations had been overruled by his arousal and adrenaline, they were still there, sitting somewhere in the back of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No. No, Si –” Dean stopped short. Was he still supposed to call Cas “Sir”? Cas could call him “boy,” because Cas was supposed to want this. But Dean wasn’t.

Cas answered Dean’s unspoken question for him. He tightened his already painful grip on Dean’s hair and said harshly, “You are to show me proper respect, boy. I don’t give a fuck whether you want this or not – either way I am going to fuck you, and I’m going to fuck you as hard and as fast and as deep as I want – but if you want me to do some things in your consideration, such as, say, prep you, then I highly suggest you address me properly. Understood?”

Dean honestly didn’t know if Cas was bluffing or not about how rough he’d get if Dean disobeyed. He’d known Cas to get pretty rough when doling out his punishments. Though, he usually limited it to stuff like impact play – nothing like dry fucking. If Cas pressed against Dean without any lube or prep and Dean didn’t safe-word, how far would Cas go? Would Cas safe-word and stop the scene, thinking that maybe Dean had gotten too far into it and genuinely felt he had no say? What if Dean did get too into it? It hadn’t happened often, but it had happened. Although, never with Cas. What if Cas didn’t recognize what was going on? What if he didn’t care? Dean let out a faint sob – a very real one – as he remembered with some fear that that was a very real possibility. After all, Cas couldn’t care about other people. Dean wanted to believe that Cas loved him, but, he supposed, it was possible to love objects, too, if they brought you great pleasure. When Dean had told Cas that he loved him, Cas had said it back, but then, Cas also loved burgers. Dean had a feeling that the two loves were far more similar, far more rapacious, than he wanted them to be.

Once again, he was struck from his thoughts as this time Cas’s hand landed on his already bruising cheek. “I asked you a fucking question.”

Without allowing himself time to dwell on his answer, Dean responded, still just as aroused but now considerably more nervous, “Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir. I – I’m sorry, Sir.” He really wanted to let himself get absorbed in this, in the thrill, the danger, but he made a mental note to himself to watch the scene. He wished he didn’t have to. He wanted to be able to just trust Cas. He had no practical reason not to, actually. Cas had never ignored his safe-word, nor, at this point, had Cas ever done anything behind Dean’s back to hurt him. But it would be irresponsible to trust Cas so blindly given what Dean knew about him. Wouldn’t it?

“That’s a good boy. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Go on, say it. Beg me to use your slutty hole.”

“No, no, Sir, please,” Dean implored, shaking his head frantically. “Sir, please don’t do this.” If Dean could force up some tears, that would have been great, but it wasn’t really something he was able to do on command. That was alright. Cas seemed to always prefer when the tears were real, anyway, seemed to prefer knowing that Dean’s tears were because of him rather than Dean’s own imagination.

Cas just laughed darkly. “Alright. Don’t worry, you’ll be begging soon enough. More than you already are. You’ll be begging me to stop before I tear you open, then you’ll be begging me as you feel yourself get torn open.” Cas had let go of Dean’s hair as he spoke, just reveling in taunting Dean as he stood before him. “Now,” Cas said, untying his scrub pants and pushing them down to pool at his feet, then pushing his boxers down to join them, “if you want to make this a bit smoother for yourself, you can get me nice and wet.”

Dean whimpered in what he hoped sounded like cowed capitulation, as he began to lower himself to his knees.

“If,” Cas said, stopping Dean mid-crouch, “you ask nicely.”

“Sir, please…” Dean lowered himself the rest of the way to his knees and looked up at Cas imploringly.

Cas was fully hard before Dean’s face. Dean was doing pretty well, but Cas could tell that he wasn’t really scared, even though he had been startled at first. Not that he wanted Dean to be terrified – not yet, at least; he didn’t want Dean to end the scene. He wanted Dean to enjoy it. But he also wanted Dean to be sort of nervous, sort of thrilled, teetering on that edge of fear. Not quite yellow, but somewhere sort of between yellow and green. Still mostly all for what they were doing, but completely absorbed in the scene as well, completely aware of how vulnerable he was to Cas’s mercy, or lack thereof.

Cas was a sadist, which, while perhaps not exactly “common,” wasn’t actually that unusual amongst the general public, and even less unusual for someone with his condition. So, naturally, one of the things he loved about Dean was that he was a masochist – that didn’t just extend to pain, but humiliation, fear – all of it. Their favourite scenes were the ones where he’d make Dean cry, which wasn’t an easy feat. He’d once done it by kicking Dean so hard his ribs fractured. As a doctor, he knew that fractured ribs were extremely painful, but not very dangerous, and healed on their own generally within six weeks. He’d checked him thoroughly for any damage to his other organs (he didn’t expect, nor find, any) and even brought him to the hospital for an x-ray just to be sure. Dean had protested painkillers until Cas told him that he could get pneumonia if he didn’t breathe normally, which Dean hadn’t noticed he wasn’t doing because of the agony.

He’d made Dean cry from humiliation, too, though that had been a bit more difficult, since Dean had a tendency to disassociate whenever the verbal degradation got to be rather intense. So, Cas had tried making Dean repeat the horrible things he was calling him and saying to him, but Dean only repeated them with rote detachment. In retaliation, he made Dean come up with his own original slurs for himself. In the heat of a scene – not to mention this happened to be as he was viciously pounding into Dean – he knew that it would be difficult for Dean to think of far-fetched things that didn’t hold any truth, and, sure enough, Dean began to sob out insults that were about a thousand times worse than any Cas’s mind could have conjured. It was so fucking hot; hearing Dean degrade himself through his tears at Cas’s command as Cas fucked him until they both came. After he’d pulled out, he’d fingered his come out of Dean’s red and abused hole and made Dean lick it off his fingers. He grinned as Dean winced at the taste and watched his face turn even redder as he taunted, “That was all just in your ass, little whore. Which I so wish you could see right now. It’s all red and puffy, all used up like I fucking paid for it, like I fucking own it. I didn’t even have to tell you what to do, just brought my hand towards you, and look how eager you are to show me what a disgusting, debased slut you are. This is all you’re good for, isn’t it, Dean? Being a fucking disgusting little slut for me to use and abuse.” He’d scooped Dean’s come off from his stomach with the same hand that had just been in his mouth and rubbed it all over his face as he giggled. “Perfect, just how a filthy slut like you should look. I should make you go out covered in come. Bet you’d like that. You’d pretend you hate it, but we both know you’d just love to be used as a canvas for come – anyone’s come, ‘cause you’re such a fucking whore. Need all the attention you can get, any way you can get it. Even if that means letting me do shit like this to you. Bet you’d let anyone who met a certain set of criteria do whatever they wanted to you, hm? Any man with a commanding voice and a penchant for ordering you around, any man who acted like he owns you. You’re fucking drowning in daddy issues, aren’t you, boy? You my little boy, Dean? Do I own you?” Yeah, that had been a fun scene. Cas had been worried once they’d cleaned up that Dean would drop, since Dean obviously believed the things he’d said about himself, and some of them were so horrible and heartbreaking that Cas might have even gotten a bit turned off if it weren’t for the fact that those self-directed slurs were the ones that caused Dean to cry the hardest, which balanced them out in terms of how they affected Cas’s arousal. Dean hadn’t dropped, though, and when Cas asked him about it about 48 hours later, Dean explained that saying those things to Cas had been humiliating because he didn’t want Cas to see him the way Dean saw himself, and confronting those thoughts was never pleasant, so the combination of those things, particularly after having endured Cas’s slew of insults, was what had brought him to tears; it wasn’t the fact that those things were true (Cas interrupted him to tell him they weren’t objectively true) that had brought the tears. Those thoughts were always in Dean’s mind and finally crying about them had been cathartic. That made sense to Cas, stress hormones being released through tears and all, and he’d made a mental note to try for more scenes like that.

He was yet to make Dean cry from fear, though. Even when he’d broken Dean’s ribs, which was during an already brutal scene, Dean had known that he was able to take whatever Cas dished out, and that he had his safe-word on the off chance he wasn’t. Obviously now, with Dean looking up at Cas with wide, pleading, fucking gorgeous eyes, that, try as he might, did not convincingly convey fear, he still had his safe-word, but Cas could make him worry nevertheless, make him wonder if he’d have to use it.

Dean had called “Red” a couple of times, and one of those times he should have called “Yellow” before it got to that point – there had been enough of a buildup for him to know what was going to happen, but Cas had kept that observation to himself; he didn’t want to scold Dean for not safe-wording “properly,” since it was something that Dean hesitated to do as it was. Dean had never safe-worded out of panic or pain. He was usually game for pretty much anything, but sometimes he just wasn’t in a deep enough head-space when Cas was, so, that sometimes led him to call a scene off that he would otherwise have enjoyed. Cas was of course okay with that. In truth, Cas’s sadism didn’t exceed Dean’s masochism; Dean was one of the most masochistic partners he’d ever had, and the most masochistic male partner he’d ever had – but Dean didn’t necessarily know that. Cas wasn’t even sure Dean fully trusted him at times. Cas knew the bad rap psychopaths had: liars, narcissists, sadists not of the consensual variety, and so on. He didn’t go around telling everyone about his condition for that very reason, but he’d told Dean because he trusted him. Somewhat ironically, he occasionally found himself worrying that that confession at times made it difficult for Dean to trust him. He could use that to his advantage now, though. A grin split across his face for a brief second as he thought out how he was going to play the rest of the scene. He’d get there. But first, he slapped Dean hard on the same cheek he’d already slapped him twice, and said sternly, “Please what, boy?”

Dean grunted in genuine pain at the sharp contact to his sore face. “Please, Sir, please let me suck your cock.”

Cas grabbed Dean roughly by the hair and slammed his entire length into Dean’s throat. He held Dean firmly, pressing his nose into Cas’s lower abdomen as Dean choked and gagged and struggled to cough. Cas looked down to see Dean looking up at him, his eyes watering on reflex from the painful sensation and constriction of his throat. Cas smiled. That looked better. Still wasn’t what he wanted, though. His cock stiffened further in Dean’s throat as he thought about how he planned to achieve his desired result from his beautiful sub. Dropping his smile, he cocked an eyebrow at Dean and ordered, “Suck.”

Dean made a plaintive sound of despair that couldn’t really be called a whimper since it was more air being huffed out through his nose than anything. Cas’s cock was literally filling his throat. He could feel it pushing against every side, probably bulging visibly through his skin. There was absolutely no way he could even attempt to suck without scraping it with his teeth somewhere. He knew better than to risk that.

“Not gonna do it? Disobedient little bitch.” Cas yanked Dean’s head back and forth once, hard, but on the second yank he pulled Dean completely off. “Know what happens to disobedient little bitches?”

Dean shook his head from where he knelt, looking up at Cas.

Cas impressively refrained from grinning as he regarded Dean. While Cas was beginning to feel practically giddy, Dean looked… not eager, he knew his role better than that, but not unsure, either. The look he seemed to be going for with the wide eyes was innocence, which Cas almost wanted to laugh about, though that didn’t mean it wasn’t also arousing in its own way. It was just so far from the truth. Cas took a deep breath to calm himself enough to maintain his strict demeanor. Though, really, it would still befit the role were he to make his glee obvious. He wanted what he was about to say and do to catch Dean completely off guard, though. He quickly fisted his hand in the front of Dean’s shirt and yanked him upright, then threw him with a spin back onto the floor.

Dean caught himself on his hands and knees, avoiding a face-plant. His knees fucking hurt, though. He felt Cas yank his jeans down without undoing his belt, causing the rough denim to chafe slightly against his skin before it fell to the floor around his knees. He was expecting either a spanking or maybe Cas’s finger. His entire body went rigid as he felt Cas roughly pull his cheeks apart and press his cock against his dry, unstretched hole. Cas wouldn’t. He was just teasing. He felt the pressure gradually become more insistent. No. Nonononono. Dean tried to slow his breaths. It wouldn’t work anyway, even if Cas tried to do it. There’d be too much resistance. Cas would have to tear him to even enter him. And Cas wouldn’t do that. It probably wouldn’t be the most painful thing Cas had ever done to him, but it would be dangerous. Cas wouldn’t do that. He was a doctor; he was smart. He was experienced; he practiced all parts of the “safe, sane, and consensual” motto, which included “safe.” He was – fuck! He was pushing into Dean. He was doing it. He was really doing it. Dean felt his entire body tremble, and he clenched tightly to prevent the impending penetration.

Cas knew the dangers of anal tearing even in people with a completely clean bill of health. If the tears were superficial, there was exceedingly little danger, but deeper fissures could potentially be fatal, making the receiving partner susceptible to diseases such as sepsis. So, obviously, he’d never actually do what he was threatening with his actions. He smirked when he felt Dean tremble and clench up. He could feel the shift in the atmosphere: Dean wasn’t so one hundred percent on board anymore. He wasn’t crying or safe-wording, though. So, Cas wasn’t stopping. Dean would have to relax a bit, though, for Cas to enter him – just slightly – if he didn’t want there to be any damage. He smacked Dean’s right ass cheek hard. “The more you resist, little bitch, the harder it’ll be. It’s up to you. If I were you, though, I wouldn’t be clenching up like that.”

Dean didn’t know what to do. He was still, inexplicably, incredibly aroused, so he didn’t want to stop. He tried to relax, but his body just wouldn’t let him. It was like instinct. His muscles refused to slacken for the threat of the intrusion.

“Wow. What an utterly disobedient little bitch.” Cas withdrew his cock from where it was pressed up against Dean’s resolute hole and pulled his hips away as he forcibly pried Dean’s cheeks apart once more with his hands.

Dean’s trembling began to calm when he felt Cas’s cock drag away from his body, but when he felt Cas’s hands pulling his ass apart, he resisted as much as he could. When Cas’s hands overpowered the muscles of Dean’s ass, leaving his hole exposed to Cas once more, Dean’s trembling kicked up harder than before.

“You fucking asked for this, defiant little shit. Gonna shove my entire cock into you in one go. You ready? Ready to be fucked into submission like a proper bitch?”

Fuck! No, not like this he wasn’t. Dean glared at his hard, leaking dick that was all too responsive to Cas’s tone and words. He was so aroused that he’d almost be willing to go for this, but he was also so terrified that he was considering ending the scene. Once again, he didn’t know what to do. His remaining composure dissolved into a mess of frustrated sobs and hot, panicked tears.

Cas moaned at the sound of Dean crying. “Fuck, baby,” he said before he could catch himself. Remembering that they were still in their characters, he amended, “That’s not an answer, whore. Use your words.”

“No!” Dean sobbed out.

“No?”

“No, Sir! No, I don’t want to be fucked into submission like a proper bitch!”

Cas slapped Dean’s ass firmly, but then let go of it and said, loud enough for Dean to hear over the sound of his own crying, “Okay.” Despite his volume, his tone was gentle.

It took a few moments for Dean to realize what Cas had said. Once he did, his sobbing subsided to sniffling as he calmed down. He turned his head to look at Cas. “What?”

Good lord, Dean looked so fucking sexy. His eyes were red and wet, his eyelashes sticking together and appearing even darker and more feminine, and twin tear tracks were visible on his cheeks. His eyebrows were scrunched together, and he looked confused – almost lost – and utterly adorable. Cas smiled at him and ran his hands lightly up and down the outside of his thighs as he explained, “I know you didn’t safe-word, but I got what I wanted. So now…” Cas’s smile became less of a reassuring comfort and more of a mischievous smirk, “I’m going to give you what you want.” Cas’s smile vanished, then. “Oh, and Red. I should’ve said that first, actually. I’m pretty sure you could tell the scene ended, though.”

Dean swung his body around so that he was sitting facing Cas, his palms planted on either side of him to aid his balance. His pants were still around his knees, his still mostly aroused cock sticking up. He regarded his boyfriend. “Yeah,” he said softly after a couple of seconds. “Just like you could tell when it needed to end.”

Cas scoffed dismissively. “Don’t have to be a brain surgeon to see that you were finally getting really scared.”

“Finally?”

“Yep.” Cas stood up, pulling his pants up with him, and walked over to sit next to Dean. He pushed his scrubs down past his butt, re-freeing his cock, and took both it and Dean’s in hand, stroking in tandem.

“Wow. Perceptive and ambidextrous.” Dean smirked at Cas as he felt his dick stiffen back to full arousal.

Cas grinned at him before becoming serious. “That was okay, though? It’s just, I’ve never made you cry from fear before.”

“Oh,” Dean said, understanding. He grinned at Cas. “That was your goal, huh? Is that why you wanted to do a rape scene?”

“CNC,” Cas corrected. “Very different. You know that.”

“Dunno if I’d call it very different,” Dean muttered.

Cas stopped stroking them. “Dean,” he said gravely. “If that’s a joke, it’s not funny. And if it isn’t…” If it isn’t, Cas just might be sick. But hadn’t he wanted Dean to think Cas might do that? That’s not the same as rape, though. Rape in a CNC scene is ignoring a safe-word or limit. Simulating rape, or rather, simulating the threat of it had been meant to make Dean feel nervous, maybe even afraid, but not raped. If he felt like Cas had done that, or would do that – 

“Hey,” Dean said, noticing the helpless look of worry and trepidation on Cas’s face. He placed his hand comfortingly on Cas’s, which was still on his dick. Dean almost let out a laugh at how utterly out of his place his cock was, where it lay beneath their hands, like it was intruding upon their moment of comfort. Redirecting his attention to Cas, though, he went on, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you would’ve stopped if I safe-worded. It was just… very convincing.” He smiled at Cas. “You did a good job. Clearly,” he added, gesturing to his recently sobbing face with his free hand.

Cas returned Dean’s smile. He believed him. “Okay.” He slowly resumed stroking them. After a couple of moments of doing so in silence, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Hm?” Dean had closed his eyes and gotten a bit lost in the gentle pleasure of Cas’s hand. He opened his eyes and looked at Cas when he heard him speak, though.

“How are you feeling?” Cas repeated.

“Good,” Dean smiled. “I’d feel even better if you did that thing I like with your – oh! That, yes, that, fuck!” Dean hissed as Cas scraped his blunt nails harshly along Dean’s shaft.

Cas chuckled. “Fucking slut. You’re a glutton for pain, aren’t you?”

Dean moaned. “Fuck yes. Oh, I’m so close, Cas. Fuck, I’m gonna –”

Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep! Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep! Beep!Beep! – 

“Ugh, shit.” Cas silenced his beeper. “They need me.” Cas stood up and re-tied his pants.

“Cas,” Dean whined. “I was so close.”

“You think I’m gonna give you permission to jerk off? When I don’t get to come?”

“You gonna be able to concentrate on cutting someone’s brain up with your dick hard?”

“I’ll live.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned with whether or not you’ll live.”

Cas snickered. “Asshole. If you’ll recall, I managed to carve my full name into your skin with my dick hard – in cursive.”

“Hmm, touché.”

Cas smiled as he made his way to the door. “Go on home, babe. Drink your –”

“The chocolate milk, I know,” Dean said, getting to his feet and righting his own pants. “And have the cookies, yeah, yeah.”

“Hey now, cookies and chocolate milk aren’t bad.”

“Oh no, they’re fantastic. Not as fantastic as orgasms, though.”

 

Cas released one of Dean’s hips and snapped his fingers in front of Dean’s face. “Hello? Anybody home?”

Dean returned to the present. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I was just… thinking. Sir.”

Cas smirked. “Is that so? And what exactly were you fantasizing about, baby boy?”

Dean shifted his feet. “Didn’t say I was fantasizing, Sir.”

“You didn’t have to, baby boy,” Cas teased.

Dean blushed and bit his lip. “I, um, I was thinking about that night, um, in the on-call room…”

Cas’s smirk widened into a grin. “Yeah? I’m getting better at reading you, wouldn’t you say?”

Dean scoffed. “During sex, sure. Took you forever to catch on to how I was feeling and why when I got home today.”

Cas’s grin faltered for a brief moment, but then he said, “Tell you what, baby boy. Why don’t we try that scene we did in the hospital again? Maybe this time we’ll get to finish.”

“We did finish.”

“I meant the sex part.”

Dean’s eyes widened in fear.

“Not that! I just meant maybe this time we’ll get to finish. As in come. We didn’t that time, remember?”

“Oh.” Dean laughed off his misunderstanding, but it came out sounding awkward. He cleared his throat. “I’d be down for that. But, ah, bit of an… unconventional way to apologize, wouldn’t you say?”

“Did you have something else in mind?”

Dean bit his lip again and looked down at his bare feet. They hadn’t ever scened gently. They’d had sex outside of a scene, and that was usually less rough, sometimes almost gentle, but they’d always combined their Dom/ sub roles with their sadist/ masochist sides. He didn’t know how to ask for this. He didn’t know if Cas would be into it. Maybe he wouldn’t find it exciting. Maybe he’d find it lame.

“What is it, baby?” Cas asked, gently lifting Dean’s chin.

Dean met Cas’s eyes. He took a deep, fortifying breath. “This, um, this is nice. Could we do a scene like this?”

Cas tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“With, um, with this sort of… gentleness.”

Cas’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He smiled, amused. “You want me to be nice?”

Dean felt himself blush. “Just, um, forget it.”

“No, no. I can do that.” Cas dropped his smile and leaned in towards Dean. He moved the hand that was tilting his chin up around to the back of Dean’s neck as he sealed their lips together. He moulded his lips to Dean’s, guiding Dean’s lips with his own. After several moments of this, he parted his lips, then slipped his tongue smoothly into Dean’s mouth when he felt Dean’s part in response. His tongue demanded exploration of Dean’s mouth, but moved slowly in its thoroughness. Cas led Dean by the waist over to the bed as he continued kissing him, then straddled Dean as he settled him onto his back upon the sheets. Cas ran a gentle hand down the side of Dean’s face from his temple to his jaw as he gradually, almost reluctantly, broke the kiss. Cas’s cerulean gaze locked with Dean’s wide, verdant eyes, the heat in the stare so intense that neither man could look away for several minutes. They just lay there, savouring Cas’s adoration and Dean’s devotion, which hung in the scarce space between their countenances and in the heavy atmosphere all around them. “My good boy,” Cas intoned, his voice pitched even lower than usual with arousal, as the pads of his fingertips stroked against Dean’s stubble.

Dean made a soft, breathy noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan in response.

Cas sat up to crawl backwards down Dean’s body until his nose nudged the underside of Dean’s shaft. He tongued each of Dean’s balls before opening his mouth wide enough to take in both of them, moaning as he sucked on them and watched Dean’s hands fist tightly in the sheets on either side of him. The tang of Dean's workday clung to his skin, enhancing Cas's arousal; the musk wasn't strong enough to be unpleasant, but was just present enough to gild the act with spontaneity and dirty authenticity. Cas pressed the flat of his tongue hard against Dean's length before flicking it quickly back and forth across the very tip, lapping up each drop of precome teased out by the action.

Dean’s breath staggered as he felt Cas envelop the head of his cock in the warmth of his mouth, Cas’s cheeks hollowed in fervent suction. He let out a sound embarrassingly akin to a squeak when Cas took him to the hilt.

Cas pleasured Dean adroitly, nigh on to undoing him. When Dean gasped Cas’s name in euphoric rapture, Cas unsheathed Dean’s cock from his mouth and sat upon his heels between Dean’s legs. Cas wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger. He smirked at Dean as he kneeled upright to shed his jeans onto the carpet. Cas leaned over Dean, steadying himself on the bed with his left palm flattened against the sheets next to Dean’s head, as he opened the drawer of the nightstand to Dean’s left and retrieved from it the bottle of lubricant.

“Grab a condom, too,” Dean said, his voice somewhat thinned by the strain of residual carnality.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know how many diseases that bitch had.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Have you fucked anyone else since we’ve been together?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Alright, well, then we don’t need one.”

Dean’s brows drew together in a brief moment of bemusement before he felt Cas slick up his cock. Precome dribbled down it to mix with the lube at Dean’s anticipation of what was to come. It had been so long since Cas had let Dean top. It wasn’t necessarily that Dean preferred it, but its rarity lent it a certain kind of thrill. Dean’s eyes squeezed shut as tightly as his fists balled in his sheets. He tried in vain to quell his alacrity, well aware of Cas’s rules. “Mm, fuck…!” Dean panted, caught off guard by the smooth submersion of his cock within Cas’s body. He abstractedly regretted missing the sight of Cas fingering himself open, though his mind was by far occupied by the overwhelming sensation of the sodden constriction concentrated between his legs.

Cas grinned at the pleasure etched onto Dean’s face in the form of flushed cheeks and a forehead creased with the continued clamping of his eyelids, at the elation displayed in the form of plump lips parted slightly to reveal the tip of a tongue held between teeth with the concentration of resisting the instinct to move, and in the column of Dean’s throat, exposed by his head tossed back in ecstasy. Cas gently enclosed his hands around it, refraining from applying any pressure for the moment, a dangerous parody of a caress. Cas tensed his thighs to lift himself until only the head of Dean’s cock was stretching his rim, then just as steadily sank back down. He repeated the motion, increasing his pace in compounding increments, barely noticeable at first, but eventually fucking himself on Dean’s cock in earnest.

Dean was so tempted to grab Cas by the hips and set a rhythm to match his, but he remained obedient to Cas’s rules. Arousal surged throughout his veins when he felt Cas squeeze his throat, both of Cas’s sweaty palms moulded and clinging to the curve of Dean’s neck as it began to redden with the strain of the compression. Dean gripped the sheets with obdurate, trembling fists as he felt his orgasm rapidly flood his senses. “Cas!” he gasped, releasing into the tight heat of his boyfriend.

Cas moaned at the feeling of Dean releasing in pulses inside him, and sank down fully to fist himself to release all over Dean’s torso. Cas absently ran his right fingers through it, smearing it into Dean’s flushed skin, as they caught their breath. He leaned down, cradling the back of Dean’s head in his left hand, and brought their lips together in a languid kiss.

“Mmm.” Dean finally raised his hands to run them from Cas’s shoulders down the length of his taut arms. “Thank you,” he whispered against Cas’s lips.

Cas smiled.

More gruffly, Dean added, “Don’t ever cheat on me again.”

“Aw, come on, this wasn’t worth it?”

Dean poked Cas hard in his side, but amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s hit the hay. If I’m exhausted, you’ve gotta be, too.”

Cas yawned, as if on cue. He tumbled next to Dean, drawing the covers up over both of them. “You don’t want to shower first?”

Dean yawned. “In the morning.”

“Alright. Good night, baby boy.” Cas threw an arm over his boyfriend, turning on his side towards him, and fell asleep shortly to the soothing sound of the calm rhythm of Dean’s breathing and to the hot, dirty feeling of Dean’s release beginning to trickle out of him onto the sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> Context/ references:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ca0sFIdX2Kc&feature=share
> 
> https://youtu.be/Zwul2uv0RUA
> 
> Meg is a demon in the show, and Castiel is an angel. She often calls him "Clarence." The angels don't have souls. Dean's low self-esteem is also canon, as is Castiel's lack of pop culture knowledge.


End file.
